


meet me at my hotel on the boardwalk

by ShowMeAHero



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Big Dick Richie Tozier, Blow Jobs, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Prompt Fic, Smut, Strip Games, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: Richie suggests strip Monopoly. Eddie is not uninterested.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 342





	meet me at my hotel on the boardwalk

**Author's Note:**

> this is truly the creation of the hivemind that is my twitter gc. they gave me the prompts:  
> \-- yahtzee  
> \-- fucking  
> \-- strip Monopoly  
> \-- long furbies  
> \-- regular furbies  
> \-- Eddie gets mad and accuses Richie of monopoly thievery  
> \-- bay city rollers  
> \-- richie wears fun patterned underwear
> 
> this one is for you

When Richie first suggests a weekly date night, Eddie's kind of skeptical. They spend pretty much every night together anyways, so he doesn't really see what they need a date night for.

"Because I love you," Richie had said when Eddie had made that point. "Maybe I wanna do something special for my little boyfriend, is that such a fucking crime?"

Eddie had made a lot of noise about it just for the fun of arguing with Richie, but he'd given in, in the end, because Richie obviously wants to do this. Eddie is sort of a sucker for giving Richie what he wants.

Except now, he amends.

"No," he states firmly. Richie motions to the picnic setup he has on their living room floor. There's a bunch of snacks, there's rum, there's joints, and there's a Monopoly board set up right in the middle of it.

"What do you mean, no?" Richie asks. He motions more aggressively to the blanket on the ground. "Strip Monopoly!"

"Absolutely not," Eddie insists, even though he gets kind of warm at the concept of strip anything. He's still learning Richie and, fuck, he's loving every lesson. "I cannot play Monopoly with you. I fucking cannot, Richie. You fucking remember what happened in the summer of '91 as well as I do--"

Richie laughs, so loudly and genuinely that Eddie gets a little bit closer to caving on the strip Monopoly thing, just to get more of those laughs. "Fuck! Yeah, I do remember that. Stan banned us from playing it together anymore."

Eddie eyeballs the game board, then glances at the rum, then looks to Richie. With any luck, the game won't last all that long, and he won't actually get to the point of needing to murder Richie with his bare hands.

"Fine," he says, because he's horny and romantic and he loves his stupid boyfriend. Said boyfriend whoops like a child and drags Eddie over by the hand. "One game."

"One game," Richie says, folding up beside the game board and patting the spot beside him.

"A short game," Eddie adds. He takes the spot, tucking his legs under himself.

"A short game!" Richie echoes. He starts dealing out money from the bank.

* * *

Two hours later, they've drank all the rum, smoked four of the five joints, ate most of the snacks, and Eddie is screaming at the top of his lungs while Richie shrieks with laughter.

"You fucking--" Eddie says, and gets so angry he can't even speak anymore. He motions viciously at the bank cash. "Fucking! Thief! You fucking thief!"

"Little ol' me? Why, I never," Richie teases in a drawl. Eddie fucking knows he's skimming off the top in the bank, but he keeps getting fucking distracted because Richie's shirtless, sockless, and down to his jeans. Richie took the opposite route for Eddie, and made him take off his pants first, so Eddie's sprawled on the floor in his underwear and his undershirt with one sock on.

"You fucking always," Eddie snaps. "Let me count your money."

"No, no," Richie laughs, as Eddie tackles him aside and snatches up his money.

"I knew it," Eddie says victoriously, even though he's hot and horny and fuzzy-headed and wrapped around Richie and truly could not do a single math problem right now to save their lives. "You fucking-- You fucking ass. You thief. You fucking--"

"If I'm Clyde, will you be my Bonnie?" Richie suggests in a movie gangster's lecherous voice. He kisses Eddie loudly on the forehead and shoves him off. "Or you can be Pretty Boy Floyd, since you're my little pretty boy."

"Shut the fuck up and get us some water," Eddie says. Richie does, planting a kiss on the crown of Eddie's head as he unfolds and leaves. Eddie looks around the room for something to do with his hands in Richie's absence, and his eyes land on Richie's shitty hipster record player.

Eddie drags himself into a standing position and makes his way, slowly but surely, to the player. The cabinet underneath is stuck, but Eddie yanks it and manages to get it open. He screams when there's, like, fucking twelve sets of eyes staring back at him.

"What the fuck?" Richie demands, sprinting back into the room, splashed with water. "What happened, are you okay?"

"What the fuck is in there?" Eddie shrieks, scrambling backwards from the cabinet. Richie runs over and throws both doors open, then bursts into laughter. "What the fuck are you laughing at, you fucking dickwad?"

"It's-- Oh, fuck," Richie gasps, doubling over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Eddie leans around him to look into a cabinet full of old records, folded throw blankets, and a dozen fucking loose Furbies of various lengths and degrees of wakefulness.

"Why the fuck do you have this," Eddie says, more anguished statement than question, staring into the eyes of an elderly blue Furby.

"They don't have batteries," Richie says. He grabs a stack of records.

"That is not a fucking answer," Eddie snaps. Richie starts rifling through the records. "You're fucking insane. My boyfriend is fucking insane."

"Legally, I think," Richie says, lifting an album out. "Wasn't this one yours?"

"Oh my God," Eddie exclaims, Furbies forgotten as he snatches the Bay City Rollers album out of Richie's hands. "You are a fucking thief, I knew it."

"Unrelated." Richie takes the record from Eddie and slides it out into his hands. He spins the record between his fingertips with a shit-eating grin like the disc jockey he tragically was part-time in high school. "Let me crank these tunes for you, baby."

"Turn off the Voice, you insufferable hack," Eddie says warmly. He presses his face into Richie's bare back while he's facing the record player.

"What about Monopoly?" Richie asks, as he sets the needle on the record and Eddie's hands unzip his jeans.

"You were about to land on my hotel anyways," Eddie says, and yanks Richie's jeans down. The fucking boxer briefs he has underneath are blindingly neon, and Eddie backs up a step to actually make out the pattern. "What in the holy fuck are those?"

Richie turns around and grins. "They're the catalyst for strip Monopoly. I found them when I was running errands today." He gestures to one of the skateboarding dinosaurs closest to the hard line of his dick and says, "Care to take a ride, half-pipe?"

Eddie stares at Richie like he's never seen another human person before. This man-- This man fucking surprised him with a date night of strip Monopoly, has a fucking cabinet full of Furbies, stole his goddamn favorite album when he was a teenager, and makes stupid fucking jokes about his dick 24/7. Eddie is madly, irrevocably, disgustingly in love with the absolute sentient hive of bees that is Richie Tozier.

"Who the fuck are you calling half-pipe?" Eddie snaps, stepping back into Richie's space and making hard eye contact with him, head tipped back to accommodate for their height difference.

"The shortest boyfriend in the world," Richie says, grinning down at him. Eddie grabs him on either side of his face and yanks him down for a hard kiss.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie murmurs against Richie's mouth. Richie smiles again, so Eddie rolls his hips up in the interest of returning his attention to the matter at hand.

"Yahtzee," Richie laughs. Eddie pinches him and drags Richie in by the waistband on his insane underwear. "Kiss me like you miss me, short stuff."

Eddie does. He yanks Richie in to kiss again, and it's like his skin is suddenly on fire, and he can't touch Richie enough. His hands can't move fast enough, his mouth can't kiss hard enough.

"Holy fuck," Richie gasps, as Eddie falls to his knees and all but tears Richie's boxer briefs down off his legs. He wraps his hand around Richie's huge cock and jerks it once.

"Come on my face," Eddie demands. Richie knocks Eddie's hand out of the way and takes himself between his own fingers, jerking himself hard and fast while Eddie presses the heel of his palm down against his cock and tries to keep it the fuck together.

"Do you want-- Do you want to be back on the blanket?" Richie asks, and it's such an absurd fucking question that Eddie laughs and shoves his own underwear off.

"Fucking no," he says, "I'm good here, now come on."

Richie does as he's told, fucks his own fist harder and faster until he's gasping on every inhale. Eddie licks the inside of his thigh, bites at his skin, sucks bruises into his waist because he fucking can and because he fucking wants to. Richie's getting closer, he can tell, and so he bites one last mark into his leg before scooting back.

"Come on," Eddie urges, and they make eye contact, and that's apparently all Richie needs before he inhales sharply. Eddie manages to get his eyes shut the split second before Richie's actually coming on Eddie's face, and he's overjoyed that he thought to ask for this. It's gross and hot and Eddie loves every second, so much so that he licks his lips and grins.

"Oh, fuck," he hears Richie whimper, before he says, "Do you only have one fucking sock on right now?"

"Shut up and get me off," Eddie snaps. Richie wipes Eddie's face off with the back of his forearm and smiles at him before he knocks him backwards onto the floor and lines his head up with Eddie's hips. He takes him into his mouth in one move. Richie fucking deep throats like a champ, which turns Eddie on as much as it enrages him that Richie ever had the chance to forget him long enough to get some other guy's dick in his mouth. Twenty-seven years of fucking hell.

"Stay with me, Eds," Richie says into Eddie's hip. He bites the curve of the bone before licking down the strong line of his waist, tracing the V that drags him down to Eddie's cock again. He licks one long, hot line up his dick before taking him in his mouth again. Eddie threads his hands through Richie's hair and holds on; he can feel his glasses under his palms, so he grips tighter to keep them in place.

"Look at me," Eddie says, when he can feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine. Richie does, big warm eyes darting up to look at Eddie through Coke-bottle lenses, and Eddie's fucking gone, coming right down Richie's throat. Richie swallows and pulls off to kiss Eddie again.

"Love you," Richie mumbles.

"Gross," Eddie murmurs. Richie smiles against his lips.

"I'll go grab your water," Richie says, and plants a kiss on Eddie's nose before standing and heading back to the kitchen. Eddie lays there for a moment, feeling all the spots his body will hate him tomorrow for his crimes on the hardwood floors today, but eventually drags himself up and gathers their clothes. Richie's jeans have a bunch of random shit in the pockets, and Eddie digs some of it out just to toss it aside before he folds the pants properly.

He comes up with a fistful of colorful money, and he screams, "I fucking knew it, you cheater!" towards the kitchen. He can hear Richie's loud, genuine laugh shoot through the house back at him, just like he'd wanted earlier, and he grins to himself as he steals the money for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) talk to me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon)!


End file.
